Alone
by RiderPhantomhive
Summary: Mob was tired


**Ahh...It's been a really long while since i've been active on FFN, I actually prefer AO3 because of the tagging system but my friends told me I should post my fics here too so I guess the best I can do is put the warnings here right?**

 ** _WARNING: THIS HAS REFERENCES TO THE MOGAMI ARC AND ALSO VIVID DESCRIPTIONS OF ANXIETY, PTSD, OVERSTIMULATION, AND AUTISTIC MELTDOWNS._**

 ** _DO NOT READ IF YOU COULD BE TRIGGERED BY THIS_**

 ** _DO NOT READ IF YOU DON'T WANT TO BE SPOILED._**

 ** _THANK YOU._**

* * *

Mob was tired.

He could hear the teacher talking about something he didn't know about and he could almost _feel_ the scratching and erasing of dozens of frustrated pencils on lined notebook paper, but he couldn't bring himself to actually pay attention to the lesson...

he slumped forward a little bit but then stiffened and sat straight, forcing himself to try and listen...

He frowned...What was a polynomial again?

Not knowing the answer, he quickly zoned back out...He hadn't slept well last night...or the night before that...or the night before that night...

Mob hasn't been sleeping very well lately...Not since those six months in Mogami's world...

His pencil rolls off the desk and falls to the floor. He tries to pick it back up, but his hands keep shaking and the pencil keeps slipping out of his grasp.

 _click, click, clack_

People have started to snicker. Tears begin to build up in Mob's eyes. His explosion meter climbs by three...He's at thirty-two percent

Finally, _finally_ he manages to pick up the pencil and he sets it down in the groove of his desk and he hides his face in his Math book.

His hands don't stop shaking

His percent rises by two.

The teacher walks up to him and asks him to stand up to answer the question in the board.

He grips his book as if he was stranded in an ocean and it was a single piece of driftwood, keeping him afloat.

He doesn't know the answer...

He doesn't know h _edoesn'tknowhedoesn'tknowhedoESN'TKNOWHEDOESN-_

His entire body begins to shake and the pencil rolls back off the desk, the noise it makes when it hits the ground echoes in his skull.

A single tear falls from his eyes and the teacher looks at him with concern and goes to touch him, causing Mob to collapse on the floor screaming, _crying_. His book is cast aside as he pulls his hair in a desperate attempt to prevent himself from breaking down completely...It doesn't work.

He messed up.

 _he messed uphemesseduphemesseduphEMESSEDUPHE-_

He doesn't bother begging. It's never worked before, so why would it work now?

He curls inwards and waits to be beaten.

The pencil floats off the ground as well as his book and his papers. The teacher touches his shoulder to try to comfort him and freezes as Mob's emotions transfer over to them...

He's drowning.

He's drowining he'sdrowningh _e'sdrowninghe'SDROWNINGHE'SDROWNINGHE'S-_

Students are starting to surround Mob, trying to figure out what's wrong with him. They seem to want to help him but they only add more fuel to his anxiety driven fire. His stomach is churning and he can almost taste the blood in his mout-

Wait.

He can taste blood.

He's been biting his lips, he forces his mouth open and crimson blood dribbles to the floor.

His nails dig into his scalp

He's made another thing filthy...

Somebody is trying to speak to him. He looks over; desperately trying to register their words, but their face is completely obscured by his tears.

God, he's so embarrassed.

The student tries to help him up and Mob's stomach lurches. His breakfast joins the blood on the floor.

People gasp and step back in disgust and Mob's explosion meter jumps by fifty four percent.

He's on the brink of losing complete control and he hates himself more he's ever hated himself before.

.

.

.

Everything goes white and he remembers nothing after that.

.

Not that he wants to recall what happened...

.

.

.

Hours later, he wakes up in the nurse's office with Ritsu sitting besides him; watching in concern, asking him what happened. Wondering if he was alright.

Mob just smiles at him and says that he should go back to class; telling him that he was fine and that he would be alright by himself.

.

.

.

He did spend six months alone after all...

.

.

.

END


End file.
